


Won and Lost in the Locker Room

by chase_acow



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 17:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/pseuds/chase_acow
Summary: Sam had managed to get his wings and chest piece off and stowed in the jet. His uniform was was complicated, put on in pieces to protect more area while still giving him necessary flexibility. He groaned in relief as Bucky unclipped the first strap of his shoulder armor. Instantly his body rested in a more natural slouch. "This better not be the set up for some kind of prank," he warned, letting Bucky move his arms to slip the piece up and over his head. "I am too tired to deal with your chicanery today."





	Won and Lost in the Locker Room

"You sure you got this?" Steve asked again, pausing with his arm braced against wall. The security council wanted an after action report from their latest campaign of villain punching, but Steve hated when his mother henning got cut short. He'd go, but he wouldn't be happy about it.

"I think I can manage, Stevie," Bucky said, stripping off the buckles down his jacket. He hadn't been a part of the main group for long, but he fit in better than he would have thought. Even then, everyone still thought he ought to stay out of sight when it came to the press or the people who financed their jet fuel and snack situation. "Used to patch you up, didn't I?"

Steve grinned, still happy when Bucky brought up their shared past even after a year of mostly non-amnesiac murderous behavior. Bucky still thought that his brief relapse over the _Rick and Morty_ cliffhanger was justified, and the only casualty was their TV. Steve bumped Bucky's shoulder with his fist and left the locker room. 

The women had already relocated to their own shower and dressing room, so he and Sam had the place to themselves. Sam had stopped in front of his locker, staring straight ahead while he spaced out and swayed the slightest bit. He'd been quiet on the ride home, and Bucky had lagged behind in case he'd need to shepherd him the rest of the way inside. Sam had made it on his own, but he'd clearly run out of steam before he'd even started to down dress.

"You got a particular fondness for that piece of floor, Wilson?" Bucky asked, as he finished getting out of his bulletproof tac layer. Since he hadn't done anything more strenuous than watch Sam and Sharon play moving targets through the scope of his rifle, he could afford to skip the shower for the time being. Instead, he pulled on an old worn pair of jeans he didn't bother to button up and a t-shirt long stolen from Steve. "You gonna plant a flag and start a religion?"

"Sounds like a lot of trouble," Sam said, his voice low and raspy. Because their main aim hadn't been death and destruction, Sam had gotten the lion's share of the work out on distraction duty. He'd still managed to crash through a couple of windows, and was more banged up than usual. Bucky couldn't see anything serious, probably Sam was just tired and sore, but he managed to look over his shoulder to make eye contact. "I think I'm gonna to hang out here waiting for death though."

The second clue, besides his silence, had been when Sam let Bucky attempt and fail to steal one of the front seats from Wanda without competition. He was the furthest thing from stupid when it came to serious injuries, but Sam was good at hiding his small hurts. Sam carried his own weight and more, but sometimes he couldn't help that stubborn inclination to try to keep up with the supers. They were a team, they helped each other, and if Bucky had a deeper motivation for getting close to Sam, that was his own problem. 

"I gotcha, birdie," Bucky said, crossing the aisle until he bumped into Sam's side. "Let me do it."

Sam had managed to get his wings and chest piece off and stowed in the jet. His uniform was was complicated, put on in pieces to protect more area while still giving him necessary flexibility. He groaned in relief as Bucky unclipped the first strap of his shoulder armor. Instantly his body rested in a more natural slouch. "This better not be the set up for some kind of prank," he warned, letting Bucky move his arms to slip the piece up and over his head. "I am too tired to deal with your chicanery today."

"Truce until tomorrow," Bucky offered, sliding around to stand at Sam's back. He lifed Sam's arm to uncuff his gauntlet. He rotated Sam's wrist and fit the gear down over his hand, setting the delicate machinery to the side. His metal hand was slightly bigger than his other, and he realized he could fit it comfortably around Sam's wrist. Unable to resist, he lifted Sam's hand so he facepalmed himself and then chuckled, letting it down easy. "Okay, _now_ truce until tomorrow."

"You think you're so funny," Sam groused, groaning again as he started rubbing feeling back into skin compressed by their tight uniforms. He arched his back, pushing against Bucky's chest and shoulder until he heard several cracks and settled back down. "But, truce. That's legally binding now."

Bucky snorted and dropped his hands to Sam's hips, finding the offset catches for Sam's heavy duty belt. Sam kept himself in peak shape, trim and muscled, but he was thick through his waist, hips, and thighs. He stayed wide and solid where both Bucky and Steve narrowed from broad shoulders. Bucky easily admitted, to himself at least, his tendency to get lost in fantasies centered around Sam's backside and the strength he could find in Sam's body. 

He wrapped his hands around Sam's waist and turned him slowly, making sure Sam put one foot down securely before moving the next. Bucky pushed a little and Sam dropped like a stone on the bench. "Are you sure you don't need to see medical?" he asked again to be sure. With more of Sam’s skin revealed, Bucky could see the start of several bruises that would flare up.

"No, I'd know. I'm just tired, gonna need a rest day or two," Sam said, leaning back into the locker cubby behind him. He watched with his eyes mostly shut as Bucky slid to the ground in front of him. His hands moved in an abortive motion against his thighs. "Those are gonna stink, y'know?"

"Yeah, I've had worse," Bucky said, flicking through the buckles on Sam's boot and shin guard before slipping the tabs through the wrench down loops. The boots were well made, flexible and supportive, but heavy, and he couldn't imagine trying to run in them. He was glad his gear wasn't near as complicated; take a jacket, rip the sleeve out and presto done. He lifted one foot with his hand on Sam's ankle to support his knee and pulled it off. "I did live with Steve for a while there."

"If we could only figure out how to use his foot funk to its full offensive capabilities," Sam mused, rolling his ankle once Bucky moved on to the other side. He let out another low sigh that rumbled down his chest, "I wouldn't have to get this lagged."

Chuckling, Bucky agreed. He finished with the boot and rubbed his hands up the back of Sam's calf, easing some of the tension in his muscles. He unsnapped the catch that kept the kneepad tight and raised Sam's foot so he could reach under Sam's thigh and massage there too. They'd come a long way since that first awkward car ride in Europe. Sam was the easiest person to be around, funny, relaxed, and willing to wait while Bucky figured out what he wanted to be. Bucky's crush had only grown the more time they spent together.

"You are nice when you put some effort into it," Sam drawled, his head thrown back and his eyes completely shut as he let Bucky rub his muscles until they stopped twitching. His posture was open, completely trusting. "That feels real good."

Bucky moved to the other leg, repeating the massage and getting the last bit of armor unsnapped. He was running out of excuses to touch Sam, and now that he'd started, stopping was the very last thing he wanted to do. That old addiction flared up, slow with rust, but with no less of a hold on him. He'd always wanted things he shouldn't, and wanted them too much.

"You know what else would feel good?" Bucky crouched back on his heels, holding his wrist in his metal hand to keep from reaching out too soon. "Blow job."

"Don't I wish?" Sam groaned, stretching up until he hit a sore muscle and winced. He patted himself on the stomach and absently traced a hand down his thigh. "A pretty pair of lips would feel like heaven about now."

Bucky could feel the heavy thumps of his speeding heartbeat throughout his body. His throat clicked, closing with the weight of his want. "I don't know if they're pretty, but I got lips," he said, swaying forward again until his shoulder bumped Sam's shin. His bravery only went far enough to let him smile and glance up to gauge Sam's reaction.

"You goddamn tease, Barnes," Sam laughed, but it was the happy one. The one that wanted Bucky to join in, and he tried, honest he did, but he felt his own smile fracture even as Sam's face grew serious. "Wait, I- You mean it."

Banging his knees hard on the tile in his haste, Bucky shuffled forward. Sam spread his legs, letting him wedge his shoulders into the vee of his legs. Fear churned in his gut, but he couldn’t tell whether it was from the idea that Sam would turn him away, or that he wouldn’t. It had been weighing on his mind; as he figured out the other parts of his life, this attraction grew to fill up the space. He wanted something more, he wanted to grow through the survive-and-fight mindset of the war and the Winter Soldier. He wanted to find something worth keeping.

"I can make it good, swear," Bucky said, leaning his cheek on Sam's knee. He lifted his arm over Sam's other leg and inched his fingers up Sam's solid thigh. "I'll make sure you like it. It'll be so good."

"Yeah? You got a lot of experience, huh?" Sam asked, he was soft again, slumped and smiling down.

Sam's voice teased, his hand was soft on Bucky's arm. He didn't mean anything by it, but Bucky couldn't hide the partial flinch. Back when he was young, folks weren't as forgiving about his predilection. He'd been big enough, mouthy enough nothing too bad had ever happened to him, but he'd seen others, smaller, reminded him of Steve, and there hadn't been anything he could do to help them. A few bucks had sometimes made all the difference in the world. 

"It's like that, baby?" Sam asked, cautiously curling his fingers into Bucky's hair.

Bucky sighed; he regretted so many things. People who died, or people who lived under his watch. Lies he told and secrets kept and given. He didn't think this should even come close to the top of his list, but sometimes, sometimes he couldn't help the shame that crawled down his throat and nested in his chest. He shouldn’t want it, shouldn’t need it, but he’d never been able to stop.

"Not all the time," Bucky said, turning his head into Sam's leg. There wasn't a lot of room for him there, between Sam's knees, but the space was warm and safe. "I liked it sometimes. I liked the feeling, the quiet in my head. Sometimes, I even liked the person."

"You like me?" Sam asked, his head cocked and an honest expression on his face. 

"Course," Bucky managed to inch closer, his knees underneath the bench while he curled into Sam's lap. They still bickered, but Bucky thought they'd settled into a comfortable friendship. He wanted this, craved it, more so than he could remember ever wanting anything that wasn't life and death. He grinned up at Sam, "C'mon, when's the last time I steered you wrong?"

"Oh, you don't want to put me, you, and steering in the same sentence, man. Too soon. Too soon forever," Sam grinned, it reached his eyes and created little crinkles. He scratched his fingertips along Bucky's scalp. "But if you're sure you want to, I won't stand in your way. Just, as much or long as you want to'll be fine."

This time, he did sigh in relief. Bucky straightened, lifting his other arm over Sam's knee as he reached for the button on Sam's pants. It had been so long since he'd tried this, since before his fall. Even before that since the last time he enjoyed it. While Steve was running around trying to be everything to everybody, it was all too easy to disappear into a dark alley and pretend the war was much further away. After Zola's torture, he'd been destructive with who and what he let take his mouth. Nothing had mattered back then, he'd had no idea how much worse it could get.

But Sam wasn't like that.

Trying not to show the butterflies in his stomach, Bucky pressed his knuckles to the zipper and rubbed, enjoying the familiar warm bulge beneath his fingers. He raised back up off his heels and dragged his lips up the inseam until he breathed into the joint of Sam's leg and hip. He knew he was too anxious, too scared now that he would fuck it up. The urge to run took root again. Why try when all he did was fail time after time?

He jerked hard at the first touch on the back of his neck, but Sam didn't move him. He didn't try to force Bucky at all, but he swept his thumbs in gentle circles and waited until Bucky relaxed. "Take your time, Buck," Sam said. "We've already established I'm not going anywhere."

Bucky followed Sam's example, framing his hands over Sam's hip, and using his thumbs to trace the rise of his dick. He'd never had as much time for this as he'd wanted, the idea that he could take that time with Sam settled him, changed fear to anticipation. Sam's knees squeezed his chest as he bent down to mouth over the rough material. The canvas caught on his lips, and he flicked his tongue out before he thought about it. Above him, Sam groaned, his hips shifting forward the slightest bit. Bucky glanced up; Sam was watching him, his eyes glazed over. Bucky twisted his head to the side, licked his lips again, and pushed harder at the material under his mouth. He could almost smell it, the sweat had dried, but Sam always smelled good.

He pulled down the zipper and whined when he saw the jock strap.

Sam chuckled, and this time it was a low, dirty sound right in his chest. "Don't blame me," he said, taking his hands away so he could help wiggle the back strap down to give Bucky room to work. "It's more secure when I'm doing somersaults through the air. I didn't expect this to be my mission debriefing."

Bucky snorted at the joke, and bent again to put his mouth right where he wanted it. The jock was sturdier than cotton briefs, but at least he was closer to that delicious heat. He mouthed down, between Sam's thighs, and found the bottom of the cup when his tongue hit warm salty skin. A noise escaped his throat, high pitched and needy. This was what he craved, this focus where he didn't want to worry about disappointing Steve, running into Stark, or hoping that Sam wasn't humoring him.

"I'm going to straight up murder you, if you don't help me get this off right the fuck now," Sam groaned, tangling his fingers in Bucky's hair and tightening them. He didn't yank, didn't even pull, but his fingers were steady, wide across the back of Bucky's skull.

With a groan, Bucky straightened, pushing his face into Sam's belly to figure out how to breathe again. Sam's muscles jumped beneath his cheek, but he took the shirt between his teeth and matched himself to Sam's inhales. Between them, they managed to move Sam enough for Bucky to slip the main strap out and down, tucking it under Sam's balls. 

Sam's dick curved to his thigh, heavy and flushed dark up to the pink tip. Bucky licked his lips, didn't think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful. The head was big, tapered, with a drop already leaking; Bucky couldn't wait to get it in his mouth. He started at the base, the curly hair there tickling his lips as he breathed. Sam twitched against his cheek, so Bucky turned his head, licking and dragging his lips up the big vein until he could wrap his mouth around the tip. It was thick, a solid weight holding his mouth open, and his eyes fluttered shut. He curled his tongue and twisted his head as he sank down Sam's length. Even next to Bucky's tongue, Sam was hot, and his dick filled out even more pressing up against the roof of Bucky's mouth. Bucky pulled back and used his hand to spread his spit down Sam's skin, but he kept his face close, unwilling to back too far away.

The locker room was bright, warm and comfortable, _familiar_ and so different than the shadows and muck he crawled through before. Sam was soft and smiling in front of him, happy to have Bucky on his knees in front of him. Bucky might have escaped the Winter Soldier years ago, but he hadn't felt free. This piece of him had been missing for so long, had never fit right with rough edges that jarred all the surrounding pieces. This might be his chance to fix that. He couldn't help that hope that if he was good enough, if it was good enough, Sam might let him do it again.

He pulled Sam's dick toward him, kissing under the tip before swallowing it halfway down again. Bucky loved the taste, salty and musky, but clean, and swept his tongue back and forth. His metal hand kept them anchored, pressed into the small of Sam's back. Sam's thighs flexed under his arms, but he didn't shift even an inch. Bucky used his other hand to hold Sam still, circling his fingers, tugging on the tight skin, and thumbing over his balls.

"You do have pretty lips," Sam said, tracing his thumb around the seal of Bucky's mouth. "Pretty, pink, lips."

Bucky moaned in response, snaking his tongue to curl around Sam's thumb and draw it inside his mouth too. He wasn't used to someone talking sweet to him. It curled through his head, quieting the last of the whispers telling him how stupid he was, how this was the only good use for his mouth. He didn't feel that subtle itch that urged him to scratch until he was made new again. 

"You feel so good," Sam continued, leaving his thumb in Bucky's mouth while he pressed the rest of his fingers along the edge of Bucky's throat. "You are good at this, Buck, but I wouldn't care, y'know? It's your mouth, your hands. I like that you wanna use 'em on me."

The words travelled straight to his gut, flipping his belly in pleasure, and ended in his cock, which he realized was harder than he'd gotten on his own since Romania. 

"Are you hard, sweetheart?" Sam asked, tracing his fingers over Bucky's eyebrows and cheek until he looked up. He reached back and pressed against Bucky's metal hand. "Leave this one here, but move your other hand down and touch yourself. I wanna see you shoulder bunch, wanna see you come."

Tightening his fingers in the loose bits of Sam's pants, Bucky reached down to rub himself through his jeans. His hips jerked and he gasped around Sam's cock. He dragged his hand down his thigh and dug his fingers in around his knee before scratching back up. He wouldn't last, not if he put his hand down his pants, but he cupped himself through the denim. 

"That's good, keep going," Sam said, his voice rougher, lower as he struggled to speak. "Your goddamn mouth, Barnes. It's fucking perfect. I'm so close."

Bucky tightened his mouth and rolled his shoulder, pressing down too hard on himself, trying to stave off his orgasm until after Sam's. He went faster, his head up and down Sam's length, his metal hand clutching against Sam's back. His heartbeat sped up, the ache in his lungs expanded. He needed this, needed to know he could still do it, and more importantly, that Sam would let him.

Sam curled his hand around the back of Bucky's neck as he locked up his thighs. Bucky pulled back, letting Sam come over his tongue. The thick flow into his mouth settled everything, and he swallowed around the ice in his throat, letting the last bit melt and disappear. The taste was better than he remembered, something to enjoy because they did it together, him and Sam. He softened his mouth, letting Sam stay inside until he tugged back on Bucky's neck.

"C'mere," Sam drawled, pulling underneath Bucky's armpit until he straightened up. He chased as Bucky struggled to stretch up, but eventually caught him in an open mouth kiss. "That was awesome. Did you?"

A whimper escaped in response, and Bucky rolled his hips forward, finding brief friction in his palm. He wanted to, so much it hurt, but he couldn't quite forget the other times when he was supposed to keep his head down and shuffle away. He ducked his head again and hid his face in Sam's thigh. Kissing was too much, too much on top of everything else.

"I'll help," Sam said, rubbing one hand over Bucky's shoulder while he reached down with the other, covering Bucky's and cupping their fingers tightly over his dick. "I want you to, Bucky. Come on."

Switching their hands, Bucky rubbed against Sam's palm and came instantly. His shorts slicked, molding against his sensitive skin. He'd have to have that shower anyway. As his breathing returned to normal, Bucky realized Sam was petting him. One hand was gentle in his hair while Sam danced his other fingers along Bucky's jawline. It was comfortable, he felt like finally in the right place at the right time.

"If I don't move, I’m going to puddle right here," Sam said, looking better than any man with his dick out had the right to be. "Help me up?"

But it couldn't last forever. Bucky stood and hoisted Sam up easily by his elbows. He couldn't help the hope twining through his chest as he kept close while straightening Sam's jock and pants, tucking him away. Sam’s eyes were closed again, his head hanging dangerously close to Bucky’s shoulder. He shuffled forward and ended up with his face tucked into Buck’s neck, leaning his comfortable weight into Bucky’s body.

"I'll help you bad to your room?" Bucky offered, rubbing his hands down Sam’s back. His nails gently scratching while the metal worried the still tense muscle. He’d follow anyway, Sam had the terrifying but often useful habit of being able to quickly fall asleep nearly anywhere. He’d almost given Jennifer a heart attack when she found him hunched over the emergency washing machine waiting for his hoodies to finish.

"Yeah, come put me to bed, sweetheart," Sam said, tipping Bucky's head up with careful fingers to his chin and kissing him again. “And maybe stay a while?”

Bucky smiled into the kiss, always willing to jump when Sam was there to catch him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if I messed anything up. I am happy to try to fix stuff! 
> 
> [my tumblr](http://cowsalot.tumblr.com/) where I inch closer to figuring things out.


End file.
